


Again and Again

by Amurtinyburr12



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Hate to Love, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Jealous Lance (Voltron), M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amurtinyburr12/pseuds/Amurtinyburr12
Summary: Keith hates feeling helpless but it's also something he isn't unused to. "I don't know if we can really do anything," He answers truthfully. "We're freshman. We can't leave the campus."Lance's face falls at that, the realization hitting him hard. "We're stuck with each other?"ORThe fic where Keith gets into a fight with a certain blue boy at a party. He never thought he'd see him again except, now he's Keith's room-mate.





	1. How Keith's Life Fell Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I've never written anything gay before this. Except it's so clearly obvious to me that Keith and Lance should be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's not happy about being this guy crowding his personal space. What the hell, man.

Fucking hell.

What was this garbage playlist? Who was the DJ? Keith scanned the crowd of young adults and teenagers but it was nearly impossible to see anything what with the random flashes. Some idiot had thought it would be a brilliant idea to dim the lights and start a neon themed "dance party" with a shitty $15 disco ball and Dollar Tree glow sticks. Keith had more than happy to sit on the couch and glower at anyone who dared to come close but he'd been forced to abandon ship when a drunken couple decided to do the deed right where he was sitting.

It was bad enough that Shiro had dragged him to this God-awful party in the first place. However, it was made even worse by the fact that the older man had dissapeared awhile ago and this playlist was giving him flashbacks to the time Coran was allowed to pick the radio station on their roadtrip to Florida.

While he's thinking, a hot and sweaty back suddenly appears on Keith's right, a lot closer than the already smothering crowd around him, and Keith wonders if anybody would notice if he pushed them back a few feet. Has anyone here even heard of personal space? Is it a foreign concept?

Keith can't see the owner of the back because they're busy dancing with a group of two other people but the longer they keep backing up into his space the more Keith is beginning to hate them. It's a guy with a dark blue shirt, that much is for sure. Brown hair, tan skin, the works. The guy's got neon paint on his arms and at least five glow sticks per hand. This crowd is suffocating and he's pissed at Shiro for leaving him and he just wants to leave. He's almost pushed up as far as he can go into a wall at this point.

And then a leg bumps against his knee and okay, yeah, he's had enough.

"Goddammit, back the fuck up," He finally hisses at the stranger's back, placing his own hand on their shoulder in a death grip. Keith spins the other guy around so that they're facing one another.

The expression on the other boy's face immediately changes from ecstatic to annoyed. "What the hell, man?"

Keith can't breathe. And it's not for the same reason as before- suddenly he doesn't care that this blue shirted boy is crowding him. His eyes are dark blue and soft, despite the fact that they're angry at the moment.

The two people that the boy was dancing with are instantly by his side. The bigger one looks taken aback. "Hey, what's your deal? Let go of my friend."

It takes a moment for the words to register. Blinking owlishly, Keith realizes he's still holding the blue shirted boy's shoulder. Hastily, he yanks his hand back to his chest and narrows his eyes at the bigger one. "Tell your friend not to crowd people into walls then."

"Are you kidding me?" The blue shirted boy transfers all his glow sticks to one hand and reaches over to rub his shoulder. "It's a party. Leave if you can't deal."

"Hey," The smaller person looks nervous, judging by how their eyes flicker back and forth between the three of them. "Just apologize. There's no need to start a fight."

The bigger friend answers before- this _prick_ \- can say a word. "This guy wanted to start a fight before any of us did, Pidge. I don't know if he deserves an apology."

The brown haired boy scoffs, never taking his eyes off of Keith's. "You're damned right I'm not apologizing for Mullet-Head here being a sensitive asshole. Who actually thinks they're going to get any ladies with that hair? So, why don't you ' _back the fuck up_ ,' Pendejo?"

Pendejo. Definitely Spanish and _definitely_ an insult. 

"Cheap shot with the hair," Pidge mutters under their breath, probably under the impression that Keith didn't hear.

"Oh right," Keith growls, moving closer. "You think I want an apology from a guy covered in neon paint and probably drunk off their ass? Please. You look like a walking twig, I don't need anything from you."

Blue Shirt looks down at his arms, still striped with blue, pink and purple neon paint. "First of all," He snaps back, obviously pissed. "My arms look fucking awesome. And second of all- I'm not drunk. If I was, I would have laid you out flat by now. Don't underestimate me."

 _Laid you out flat by now._  

Keith steps forward, and realizes with irritation that Blue Shirt is just a little taller than him. He has at least a good inch on him. The height difference doesn't stop him from getting in his face. "If you're so tough then prove it. Punch me, right now."

What the shit is he doing? Keith has no clue why he said that. He really should walk away but then again he's never done that. If he starts something then he's damn well going to finish it.

"Don't do it," The large boy warns.

"Relax, Hunk," Blue Shirt drawls, a sly smile stretching across his face as he stares Keith down. "I'll just give him a bloody nose. Nothing serious." He cracks his neck, still grinning.

Hunk appears to have stopped trying to be the voice of reason, judging by the way that he sighs and takes a slow step back.

"You're going to do it then?" Keith traces Blue Shirt's body with his eyes. He's just assessing his attack stance. Yup. "Want to prove you're a tough guy even when you've got stupid neon paint on your skinny ass arms-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. Keith's slammed backwards against the wall by the lapels of his jacket before he knows exactly what's happening. His head is a little dizzy and as his eyes refocus he realizes that Blue Shirt has him efficiently pinned.

"I didn't want any trouble," Blue Shirt lowers his voice and wow- that's really hot. "You're a piece of shit person, you know that? Just ruining people's days for no reason? Is that it?"

Keith looks back at him, mouth dry.

"Well, fuck you." Blue Shirt spits, shoving an elbow against Keith's chest and adding more pressure. Keith wonders if Blue Shirt has noticed that he hasn't even lifted a hand to defend himself yet. It seems not, since the brown haired boy keeps talking. "Just leave us alone. And goddamn, I hope I never see you again." He releases Keith with a huff and marches off with his two friends without waiting for a response.

Keith watches him go, unsure of what to think.

A MONTH LATER

_Okay, Keith. You got this. You're in control. Don't worry. College is probably great. Education is good. Just open the door._

Keith stands outside the door of his college dorm, holding the key in his hand. He's not sure why he hasn't gone in yet- it's been a solid two minutes. Technically, he's early since he wasn't scheduled to arrive until tomorrow. But he'd wanted to settle in and get all of his stuff in before everyone else.

He shifts the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and watches the door. He can tell his roommate, a guy named Lance, is in there- or at least has been there. There's a faint beat coming from inside the door, Spanish music of some kind. It looks like he wasn't the only one who wanted to get to University early. Unless he's like, completely dumb and thought today was sign in day. 

Keith is nervous, he'll admit that.

What if his roommate is a total douche? What if he's got weird hobbies? He's read about people's experiences with college roommates online. They either become the best of friends or the worst of enemies. There is no in between. And with Keith's less than stellar friend-making experiences he's 98% positive this won't end well.

He glances at his campus map of Voltron University for the umpteenth time, studying the layout and more specifically the dorm rooms. Yup, he's in the right place. The school is huge, like really huge. Bigger than the pictures on the website made it seem, anyway. It was like he was walking through a maze. Keith would have never made it here without the map and he's terrified to think about what might happen if he loses it for even a second.

It's a nice looking campus, that's for sure. Most of the school is open to the elements, letting the summer-turning-fall air spill through the corridors. It was a good thing this place was in Altea where it hardly ever got cold because walking through piles of hail or snow would really shit on Keith's day.

Finally, he takes a breath to calm his heart. It's just a dorm room. This shouldn't even be the hard part. He nervously inserts the key into the slot and turns it, trying to school his face into something neutral just in case his roommate is, in fact, already there.

The door swings wide.

Shakira's _"Hips Don't Lie"_ greet him first and the smell of cheetos. Keith notes the movie posters pinned up on the farthest wall. One of the five is of Wonder Woman, another is Black Widow and the rest are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. A small blue painted bookshelf is attached to the wall, underneath the posters, holding up a grand total of one book. A few articles of clothing are scattered about the floor, some on the carpeted floor and a pair of dark blue underwear tossed carelessly on the farthest twin bed. There's a window next to that bed, overlooking the quad, cracked open. A laptop sits on top of a blue painted dresser - and wow this guy likes blue - and a few discarded bags of Cheetos lay around a small trash bin in the corner where someone apparently missed trying to throw them in.

From inside the room, the bathroom door slides open and a figure emerges, toweling his hair off lazily.

And because the towel is being used on the hair, it's not being used where it really should be.

Keith's eyes grow wide as he realizes his roommate has just gotten out of the shower and he immediately makes to turn around before Lance turns and realizes he isn't alone. It's too late- he's already turning as Keith makes to leave- probably because he felt the draft. He's successfully gotten his back to the room when Lance speaks.

"You again? I'd recognize that mullet anywhere."

That voice.

It takes a second for Keith to process where he's heard that before. 

"You're that guy from the party!" Lance is already drawing closer, tone doing nothing to disguise his distaste. 

Keith takes a deep breath from the doorway, inwardly counting to three. His therapist is a fucking liar, this doesn't help at all.

With no other choice left except to flee the room, ditch college and live his life on the streets, Keith turns to face Lance. The other boy has just finished wrapping the towel around his waist, thank God. 

"Well?" Lance scowls, tapping his foot against the carpet impatiently.

Keith just closes his eyes and wishes the ground could swallow him into oblivion. Of course his roommate is this ass. All of his worst fears are being confirmed. "Fuck."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a reference for height, since I was pretty sure Keith looked shorter than Lance. It's not legit but it's all we've got.  
> http://incorrectvoltronld.tumblr.com/post/151616965717/how-tall-are-the-vld-paladins


	2. Deal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance will stay out of Keith's way and vice versa until they can get separate dorms.
> 
> Or at least, that's the plan.

"Fuck," His room-mate closes his eyes.

Lance spins on his heel and throws himself on his bed. His arms and legs splay out in all directions. "It's a mistake, right? There's no way you're my dorm partner."

The boy in the doorway appears just as uncomfortable. He stands stiffly, arms at his sides and makes no attempt to come any further into the room.

"This is unbelievable," Lance runs a hand through his hair. He cannot believe this is happening to him. Mullet-Head McAsshat is his room-mate. What are the odds that this complete stranger would be at his school nonetheless assigned to his dorm? There's got to be a God somewhere up there laughing his ass off at Lance's rotten luck.

"Look...uh, Lance," Douche of the Year mumbles, fidgeting with the belt loop on his jeans. "I don't want to be here any more than you. We can get our dorm rooms switched and pretend this never happened."

Lance keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling. "Yeah, we're definitely not rooming together. Uh uh. No way. Not happening."

The boy takes a half step toward the other bed, glancing at Lance as if to ask if it's okay. Lance says nothing but turns his head just in time to see the other bend over slightly to set down his bags. The bottom half of his shirt rides up over his back, revealing a patch of smooth pale skin. There's a darker spot, just above it, but Lance can't tell what it is. He swallows and tears his gaze away so his dorm-mate won't think he's staring. 

"My name is Keith by the way," The boy mutters, stuffing a piece of paper and his key into his backpack. "You probably knew that though from seeing the room assignments."

"Can't say I did," Is the brown haired boy's reply. "Keith is a pretty forgettable name."

There's a pause, and it seems like Keith is debating with himself before he finally speaks, "I'm doing my best to be civil for as long as one of us has to be here, alright? Once you get moved somewhere else we never have to talk again so let's just get through this without pulling our dicks out every five seconds. Deal?"

Lance chooses to ignore the dick comment and sits up on his bed, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Once _I_ get moved somewhere?"

Keith turns to face him; one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, I specifically asked for a room next to the Aerospace Engineering department. Everything else will have been filled up by now so I'm not leaving."

"No," Lance states simply, glowering as best as he can. It doesn't really feel right, he's not used to trying to be this mad for this long. Still, if this asshole thinks he can just move in here and kick him out after he's already unpacked then he's got another thing coming. "No deal, ace. I'm already moved in here," He gestures to the posters on the wall. "I marked this room as mine. You're just going to have to get up earlier to get to Aero-whatever."

Based on the edge in Keith's voice, it's safe to say that he's growing increasingly more irritated. "Aerospace Engineering and God, stop being so petty. You have barely anything, it won't be hard to move." He stops for a moment, a disturbing glint igniting in his eyes. "If you don't move out, I'll dump all your shit in the hallway."

Lance mentally slams his head against a wall. "I'd like to see you try. Seems to me the last time you got on my bad side I pulverized you."

Keith turns back around and stoops down to dig through his backpack once more. "Sure, Lancelot. You totally had me, I was terrified." Something about the way he says it really grinds Lance's gears. He can tell when people are being sarcastic and Keith is positively dripping with it.

Said d-bag starts to head for the door, something small clenched tightly in a white knuckled fist.

"Where the hell are you going?" Lance tracks his movement across the room, frowning.

"I'm going to see Assignment Hall now," Keith replies without glancing back, hand already resting on the doorknob. The glinting object in his hand, Lance realizes, is his room key. "The sooner we put in a request, the faster you're out of my hair."

" _No_ , no way," Lance launches himself from the bed, scrambling towards his dresser in search of clean underwear. "You're not going without me. You're going to tell them that I have to be moved! Don't walk through that door!"

Keith glances back at Lance who is still battling to open his faulty drawer. "Maybe, that's what I was counting on." And with that the other boy bolts out the doorway, slamming it shut behind him with a bang.

Lance gives himself a moment to gape at his retreating back before returning to his frenzy of pulling on different articles of clothing. He ends up tugging on his blue lion slippers, his (clean?) boxer briefs from the bed and a wrinkled white and blue collared t-shirt before running out the door after Keith.

He see's the bastard rounding a corner to his right and follows, hot in pursuit. Unbeknownst to Keith, Lance has a track scholarship. He covers a hundred meters in ten seconds, and another hundred in twenty one. He's just a few feet behind the other boy when suddenly Keith stops in his tracks. Lance's eyes widen as he screams, windmilling his arms and trying to dig his heels into the ground before he crashes into the other boy - all to no avail.

The two go tumbling to the hallway floor, a tangled mess of elbows and knees.

"Ow!" Keith snaps, reaching up to roughly shove Lance's thigh from his neck. Lance has the decency to scramble backward, rubbing his forehead where he smacked it hard against the hard ground.

"Why the hell-" Lance cuts himself off as he realizes why Keith had stopped running.

A girl looks down on them, beautiful long white hair framing her face and bringing out inhumanly entrancing blue eyes. Are those specks of purple, too?  _Whoa._ She's holding a book close to her chest and her shoulders are shaking. Lance is taken aback when he realizes that she's shaking because she's holding in her laughter. She looks slightly familiar, but Lance can't decide where he would know her from. He makes up his mind to take her giggles in stride and dazzle her with a sample of the Lance charm.

"Even if I hadn't run into this idiot, I'd still fall for you," He gives the girl a sly wink and starts to push himself up by his elbows.

Keith mutters something indecipherable under his breath as he too, begins to stand.

The girl rolls her eyes. "That's one of the worst pick up lines I've ever heard." Her voice is soft and has a slightly thicker than usual Altean accent.

"Go on a date with me and you'll get to know some of my better ones," Lance grins, taking a step closer to her. "What's your name, beautiful?"

"Yeah, no thank you," The girl shrugs almost apologetically. "But, the name's Allura."

Lance does his best not to look as slighted as he feels. Someone didn't flirt back with him... Is he losing his touch?

"Nice to meet you, Allura," Keith gives the white haired girl a nod. "I'm Keith. And this loser is Lance."

"I'm not the loser," Lance interjects, feeling defensive. Why does Keith think he can introduce him like that? They aren't friends. Lance doesn't think he's ever hated someone so much in his life. Keith and his stupid pale skin, stupid mullet, stupid smooth voice, stupid pretty eyes and- _what the hell_?

"Debatable," Keith gives Allura a half-hearted wave as he starts back down the hall. "See you around, Allura." He's no longer running, which might be better since the last time it didn't end well.

Lance growls lowly but gives Allura a quick wink before lengthening his stride to put himself next to Keith. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Keith flinches and Lance thinks he may have imagined it because the other boy just continues on a second later, glancing at the walls around them, looking for something. "I could ask you the same. Do you hit on every girl that comes your way?" 

"No and yes," Lance tilts his head at the other, even though the black haired boy isn't even looking at him. "I hit up the occasional guy too. I'm not picky."

Keith pauses in his studying of the walls to meet Lance's eyes. God, his eyes are stunning. Lance blinks rapidly, trying to chase that thought away with a mental pitchfork.

"That's not something people usually tell one another after just meeting." Keith turns and heads down another corridor.

"This isn't my first time meeting you," Lance responds. "Besides, I won't have to see you ever again so it's not like it matters what I tell you," 

Keith doesn't say anything after that statement. They walk on without a word, through several long hallways. It feels like an eternity has passed and...yeah Lance thinks he's seen that mural before. It's of a tall white haired man with soft compassionate eyes. He wasn't really paying attention on orientation day but he's pretty sure it's a painting of Alfor, the school's founder. 

After some time passes and he see's the mural again, Lance finally breaks the silence. "Are we going the right way?"

"Yes," Keith grits out almost immediately. 

"I can't believe you got us lost," Lance puts his hands to his face. "I should have brought a freaking map."

"What good does that do us now, asshat?" Keith shoots back, face reddening.

"It doesn't but it's still your fault we're lost." Lance scoffs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

"How the fuck is this my fault, exactly?"

"I didn't want to change the schedule right now! You did!"

"You wanted to change it just as badly as I did! Don't even play that card with me."

Lance wants to yell at the top of his lungs, or maybe just run into a wall. "Well, do you have your phone? Mine is in the room. We could just Google it."

Keith grumpily reaches into his back pocket. "It's dead. I have a charger in my pocket but I doubt there's an outlet anywhere close."

"Well, freaking let's ask someone for help then," Lance finally breathes out, struggling to maintain his emotions. Usually, he's fairly good at controlling how he feels. Everything he does is his choice. Keith unbalances him.

Keith looks around, casting a side eye a bit too dramatically for Lance's taste. "I'll just ask the wall," He snarks when it becomes apparent that they're nowhere close to anyone else.

Lance wisely doesn't respond to that. Instead, he turns on his heel and stalks over to the painting of Alfor, studying its placement. He swipes a strand of hair from his face but when it falls back into his vision he releases a puff of air to blow it away. "The first time we saw this, we came from the left. That rules out this hall," Lance gestures behind him. "Straight or right."

There's no answer and the brown haired boy turns to see what the hold up is. Keith's eyes are on him but he doesn't appear to have registered any of his words. 

"Earth to Keith," Lance waves a hand in front of his face. "Straight or right?"

Keith blinks quickly out of his stupor and pushes the others fingers out of his eyesight. "Huh? Straight?"

Lance watches his facial expression for a moment before turning back around. "Okay," He nods his assent. "Straight. We know that unless we turn another direction, there's no way that can lead back here."

"Uh, yeah," Keith agrees, voice a little softer than usual. "Straight."

Eventually, without taking any turns, the hallway gets noticeably older. The once soft pinks and yellows of hallways turn into dusty stone. After a few minutes, the pair open one of the random doorways, hoping to find a window or something to tell them where exactly they'd ended up.

It's a ballroom, large and beautiful and yet so obviously ancient. Dust and spiderwebs cover over half of everything in the room and drapes have been drawn over windows. A few slivers of faded light fall through the cracks, barely illuminating any of the massive room. It's eerily dark but Lance can make out a large staircase descending down the middle of the room, probably used for introductions of important people.

"Don't think that's Assignment Hall," Keith cranes his neck to take in the large chandelier. His words echo around the room, bouncing off the walls for a few seconds.

"I wonder why no one uses this anymore," Lance's eyes water slightly as his nose begins to itch. He rubs furiously at it before sneezing loudly. Dust flies up around the room, causing Lance to sneeze once more.

A hand on his arm drags Lance out of the room and he doesn't fight, instead choosing to wipe at his watering eyes.

"Allergic to dust?" Keith asks once they're a safe distance from the ballroom.

"Mm, most people have the same reaction as I do," the brown haired boy pinches the bridge of his nose. "Everyone in my family has allergies though. When I was little I was allergic to everything. But it was stupid stuff like grass and well," He shrugs. "That sort of ruined my childhood. I couldn't play with other kids outside. Now that I'm older it's gotten better."

"Wow," The other boy frowns. "That sounds awful. I would have hated that. I mean, if I had siblings..." He sounds hesitant to keep going. "Or, anyone I guess."

Lance takes a moment to reflect on that. "You don't have a family?"

"Nope."

"Oh," Is all he can think of to say. Should he say that he's sorry? That's sad?

There's a silence for a few seconds and then out of the corner of his eye, Lance notices something silver and square shaped embedded in the stone wall. Walking closer, he inspects it and realizes that the top half acts like a lid. Flicking it open reveals two vertically placed outlets.

"Think these work?" He bends his knees to get a better look.

"I think it's all we've got," Keith drags his dead phone from his pocket along with his charger.

Lance waits with bated breath for Keith to plug it in. The screen lights up a second after he puts it in, a loading screen appearing on it's interface.

A minute later, Keith pulls up the Voltron University map and rotates his phone so they can read it better. "Damn, we're way off the normal campus." 

Lance squints at the screen, tilting his head a little. "Hey, there's Assignment Hall. It's not that far, if we turn back and go left."

Keith's eye twitches slightly then sullenly he puts his phone back into his pocket and starts walking again. 

Lance stares at his back for a few seconds then shaking his head, sprints to catch up with him. "Keith," He pants once he's next to the dark haired boy. 

"What?" There's no emotion in Mullet Boy's voice. Seems like he's back to his normal self.

In truth, Lance isn't sure what he wants to say. And now he's standing here like an idiot, not saying anything. "I, uh..."

Keith waits for him to say something. When it's becomes obvious Lance isn't going to he rolls his eyes and turns his gaze back to the corridor. "Look, Lance. Let's just get to Assignment Hall. I'll move somewhere else, alright? Until then, let's just fucking stay out of one another's way. It's best for both of us. Deal?"

There's no heat in his words, and Lance can tell but he doesn't say anything about it. He doesn't know why. Instead, "Y-yeah," He hears himself stuttering. "Deal."

He can't stand this guy. Right?


	3. Other Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith just wanted to change dorms. It seems fate had other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look two chapters in one day! I don't think I've ever done that before.

The piece of paper slides under the doorway early that morning. Keith knows because he's awake.

Two days have gone by. Two days since he's had to move in with the most insufferable human in all of the galaxy. God it feels like it's been a month. Of those days, Keith has learned a few things about his room-mate but none he'll ever have to remember. Still, know he knows Lance has a large family, he's Cuban, 18, enjoys fine food, flirts with everyone and loves animals.

**But-**

Keith's leaving soon. No need to remember any of it or _even worse_ , get attached or something.

It's satisfying that he knows this much about the brown haired boy while the other knows absolutely nothing about him. Lance is a talker. Never seems to shut up, actually.

Keith checks his watch. 5:00 AM. The parasite himself is on his bed, long since passed out and snoring loudly. It's hard to tell but Keith thinks he see's a small line of drool dribbling down his chin and onto the pillow.

Frankly, it's disgusting.

Keith's barely gotten any sleep through the night. The ceiling paint is too yellow, the light from the bathroom that Lance insisted he needed to sleep is too bright, the bed is too stiff and springy and creaks when he shifts. He doesn't belong here. Lance had fallen asleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow, no surprise. Keith doesn't take him as a night owl. His gentle snores are the only noise at this hour and while it should be annoying, it's kind of soothing.

When he hears the shuffling noise near the doorway, he stiffens. Keith doesn't know what to expect, and from his position on the bed he isn't be able to see the door. He could if he'd been laying the other direction, allowing him to peer around the bathroom's wall. The noise has stopped by now but one can never be too cautious. 

To make sure he isn't going to wake Lance, Keith leans over the edge of his tattered mattress and checks on the other. He's still asleep, one knee bent and a hand flung carelessly across his bare chest. Taking a deep breath, Keith slowly disentangles himself from his sheets and lifts himself off the bed. The hardwood floor is frigid underfoot and his teeth chatter for a moment before he clamps down.

Quietly, he pads his way over to the doorway. It's not long until he notices the sheet of paper lying alone on the ground. He kneels down and gingerly picks it up, almost like he expects it to bite.

Turning it over in his pale hands, Keith realizes it's a letter.

> Dear Students,
> 
> Unfortunately, your request to switch rooms has been denied. 
> 
> Voltron University is a prestigious school with several applicants, many of whom live here on campus. Due to an increased influx of students this year, all dorm rooms and living spaces are at overcapacity and our waiting list is already longer than the past 4 years combined. We regret to inform you that if one of the students wishes to switch they will have to relocate off campus. However, if you are a freshman this option will not be available for you until next year.
> 
> If it is not possible to relocate, you may continue to stay in your assigned room for this term.
> 
> Please be assured that as soon as something opens up, you will be amongst the first to be notified. You may continue to keep checking in with our Assignment Hall each week.
> 
> Best of Luck,
> 
> AH Selection Committee

Keith drops the letter and leans back against the wall, letting himself slide down into a sitting position. Shit. So he's still stuck here with Lance. He rereads the line about moving off campus, just to be sure he saw that right. Freshman can't leave. Great.

He sits there, thinking, back pressed against the hard wall until his watch reads 6:40 AM. Cramped and cold, he shoves off the ground and unfeelingly drags himself into the dark bathroom. He takes the AH Selection Committee's "Fuck You" letter with him. The place flickers to life once he flicks the switch on the wall and he finds himself staring at himself in the mirror. Keith's never been a fan of his own looks, especially not now. Dark circles under his eyes highlight how tired he is and his dark hair is sticking up and out in all directions.

"Nice," Keith mutters as he tears his gaze from the mirror and over to the shower. Some warm water would probably do him good. His only concern is waking up Lance, but Keith is almost certain the other boy could sleep through anything. He's got that look about him.

Keith discards his grey night shirt and black sweats before trudging to the bathtub.

The steam is welcome as it fills up the room, warm and thick as the showers hisses against marble. He lets the water trickle and spill off his hair and onto his shoulders while closing his eyes tiredly. 

He must have stood there longer than he thought because the next thing he knows someone's banging on the other side of the bathroom door.

"Keith?" Lance's voice is muffled and drowned out by the water. He's awake then.

"Uh, yeah?" He raises his voice in response. His eyes are fixated on the doorknob, watching to see if it's going to move. God, just because Lance is seemingly okay without wearing a shirt ever doesn't mean Keith is. Did he remember to lock it? He doesn't think he did.

"Breakfast is soon and I need to shower...so if you'd hurry up that'd be great.

“Breakfast?”

Keith didn't realize he'd been in here _that_ long.

“In five.”

Keith shakes his head to clear mind. Okay. He needs to finish up. Quickly, he rinses and shuts off the water.

When he finally emerges from the shower and dries off with one of the towel, his stomach growls loudly and he realizes just how hungry he is. Then, with a pang, he realizes he didn't bring any clean clothes with him. His only other outfit, which is the same from the past two days is on the ground next to his bed. His other belongings still haven't arrived.

He stares at the door, knowing Lance is on the other side. In his self-pitying state, he'd completely forgotten to plan ahead. He _does not_ want to go out there naked, even if there's a towel preventing the other boy from seeing his family jewels. There's no hiding the other thing. Coffee should have been made first and now he's paying the price.

"Uh, Lance," He makes a decision. "Could you get my clothes? They're on the ground."

“What?" He can practically see the cogs in Lance's head turning. "Why can't you get them?"

Keith silently curses himself for the second time that day. "C'mon, can you just get them?" He cringes then adds, "Please?"

"Fine," Lance's voice gets quieter as he leaves his station by the door. He's back a few seconds later, rapping obnoxiously on the wood again.

Keith really regrets having Lance fetch them but he has his reasons. Still, the alternative isn't looking great. He probably thinks he's hiding a tattoo or something and while that isn't true it's going to make the other boy curious. And curiosity yields investigation. There's no way Keith is ever going to let anyone see him without a shirt. Not after the childhood he's had.

Keith cracks the door open slightly, just enough for Lance to pass his clothes through to him but not enough for him to actually _see_ anything. "Thanks," He mutters before slamming the door in a confused Lance's face. His heart rate has sped up dramatically, and his fingers are a little shaky.

Once he's fully dressed in his leather aviator jacket, belt, black jeans and t-shirt he feels more like himself. He lets Lance in and goes to lay atop the sheets on his bed. He hears the shower start running the second his back touches the mattress.

His heart is still beating fast, Keith notices as he puts a trembling palm on his chest. _Breathe_ , he reminds himself. His secret is safe.

Lance is out of the shower a few minutes later, an angry expression on his face. He walks across the room, shirtless and with a towel wrapped snugly around his hips. 

"You mad or something?" Keith makes himself ask, trying to fall back into his normal routine from the past few days. He's usually snippy with Lance around this time- and not without good reason. The other boy is an idiot. Always spilling stuff or tripping over something or musing about stupid topics. It's kind of endearing. But mostly stupid.

"Might be," Lance fumes as he pulls on a shirt from his dresser.

"Okay," Keith lets his eyes fall shut. "I'd ask why, but I don't care."

"You should care," Lance actually sounds pissed off. Keith opens one eye at the other boys tone. "The letter. You left it in the bathroom."

Oh, right.

Keith sits up and swallows. He wants something to do with his hands, something to keep him from nervously fidgeting. It's a tick of his- something he's always done. He ends up shoving them into the pockets of his jacket and decides to downplay how he feels on the matter. "Yeah, they denied our request."

"I know that," Lance sits down hard on his bed and begins tugging on a pair of underwear, careful not to let the towel slip. "I read the same letter you did. What are we going to do?"

Keith hates feeling helpless but it's also something he isn't unused to. "I don't know if we can really do anything," He answers truthfully. "We're freshman. We can't leave the campus."

Lance's face falls at that, the realization hitting him hard. "We're stuck with each other?"

It shouldn't hurt Keith that Lance wants him out that badly. He doesn't want to be here either. But the words dig their way into his heart regardless.  _We're stuck here with each other?_

"It seems so," He answers numbly, not daring to meet his dorm-mate's eyes.

The two sit there, staring at the ground and contemplating their new predicament until Lance finally speaks up. "So. Should we get breakfast? Classes are at 8."

"Sure," Keith nods. What else is he supposed to do?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be in a week. I'm going to try to do them within 7 days but now that school is started that's more wishful thinking than anything else. I wish I was a scheduled person, I really do.


	4. Not So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is trying to be hella mad with Lance but really, he's just hella attracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, sorry. Two Keith chapters in a row, my bad. I just felt the best way to progress was with his POV. Next is gonna be Lance, I swear.

Thunder roars overhead just as Keith makes it back to his dorm. It's been raining non-stop for the past day. In fact, its gotten so torrential, Keith is just as soaked sprinting from Brit Lit to the room as when he gets in the shower.

The second he enters the room, he begins shucking his hoodie cursing under his breath as the wet sleeves of the thick black material stick firmly to his arms. With the hoodie halfway over his head, he blindly makes his way across the room, grumbling as he slams face first into what must be the bathroom wall. After another second or two, the hoodie peels off.

To his surprise, Lance is sprawled over a chair by his desk. He notes Lance's slightly wide-eyed expression, like he hadn't expected Keith to return at this hour. It's evident by the way he slams the lid to his laptop shut that he doesn't want Keith to see whatever he was doing. In the back of his mind, Keith wonders if he was watching porn- and if he was it seemed like a strange thing for Lance McPain to be embarrassed about. If Keith had gathered anything from living with the guy for the past week, it was that Lance was never shy about anything. 

"You're back from class early." Lance sounds a little pissed.

 _So are you_ , Keith wants to say. But he also isn't sure if that's true- he doesn't know Lance's schedule yet. He just knows that he's never in the room when Keith is.

"Yeah, professor thought we should all leave early. Weather is supposed to get pretty bad today." Keith tosses his hoodie into the hamper by the foot of his bed. He heard the anger in his dorm partner's voice- he just doesn't care.

"Well, I don't want to be here when you are," is the flat response. 

"You think I do?" Keith doesn't let him answer before he shifts his gaze to the laptop on the desk. "Were you doing something you didn't want me to see?"

The expression on the other's boy's face is caught somewhere between horrified and guilty.

Keith continues as if it's just another casual conversation. "If you're going to watch porn, that's fine. I don't really give a shit. But you could put a sock on the door handle or something."

“Oh my God,” Lance protests, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I wasn't watching porn! Who the hell do you think I am?"

“Wow,” Keith whistles sarcastically. “I thought you were a teenage boy. Don't pretend you weren't- you scratch your left wrist when you lie."

Lance immediately shoots his gaze toward his hands, where his right is most definitely rubbing his left. His cheeks grow slightly red and he glares back at Keith. "For fuck's sake, Mullet-Head. I'm actually not lying about watching porn. I wasn't."

"Fine," Keith concedes as he strides further into the room. "What were you doing then since you're the embodiment of Jesus Christ himself?"

Once again, Lance's cheeks flame up. His eyes dart to the laptop then back to Keith before he begins to sound defensive. "If I wanted you to know, I would tell you. Just fuck off and eat some shit or something."

Keith narrows his eyes at the other boy, a small twinge of anger igniting in his belly. Alright, so Lance is in a bad mood. They're never nice to one another- but not usually this asshole-ish. It's strange because usually Keith is the one telling him to fuck off. He's not so sure he likes this turn of events. "What's gotten in to you then?"

"Nothing," Lance responds, a little too quickly as he turns his attention to his shoes. His tone is bitter and angry, but Keith hears the sadness underneath it.

Goddamn it. Keith's done so well with being a douche to Lance, and the other boy has kept up his role as well. They hate each other. Keith shouldn't care if his room-mate is upset about something. It's not his problem.

The black haired boy stands there awkwardly, before shuffling a little closer to the desk. "Seriously, Lance."

At the tone of his voice, Lance looks up. He's obviously surprised by how nice Keith sounded just now. Keith is too.

He continues anyway. "Is something wrong?"

Lance's shoulders sag a bit, the tension slowly bleeding out of his posture. "No, I'm okay. Just slammed with homework."

Keith notices the twitch and the fact that Lance is scratching his left wrist once again but decides to ignore the obvious lie. "Yeah, there's been a lot. We're barely into the second week of college. You'd think they'd give us some time to adjust or something."

His room-mate just nods, gaze going back to the floor.

After a few seconds, Keith turns to dig out another pair of jeans from his suitcase. It arrived four days ago and he still has yet to unpack it. As his back is turned, Lance stands from his chair and says, “I’m going to go for a -” Lightning cracks through the glass of the window and thunder growls in response. 

“Fuck." The other boy finishes, sitting back down in his chair, this time turning it so he can look out the window.

Keith kicks his soaked shoes off and goes to the bathroom for a towel so he can dry his wet hair. He pulls of his drenched jeans and hangs it to dry on the towel rack before putting on his dry ones. When he comes back out into the main room, Lance is pointedly still staring outside.

"Do you want to get food or something?" Keith feels increasingly more uncomfortable the longer he stands there, watching Lance's back. He doesn't know why every time he's in this dorm, it feels like he's intruding. He lives here too- he shouldn't feel like he needs to constantly remind Lance of that. 

And Keith will never admit this but it hurts to be ignored by his room-mate. It's just as bad as he'd imagined- his room-mate isn't going to be his best friend. They hate one another. Keith thinks that this must be partially his fault- after all, everything he touches falls apart. He wonders if he should write about his college experience so far in the forums he'd been reading before he arrived at Voltron University.

Lance is still apparently making an effort not to look at him. “I'm doing homework,” is all he says.

Homework? Keith wants to point out that there are absolutely zero papers by his side and his laptop isn't even open. He decides to try one more time, attempting to try to cheer up his room-mate. He has no clue what he's upset about, but just because Keith is a jerk to him most of the time doesn't mean he wants Lance to be all sad and mopey for the next week.

"We could get hamburgers. I heard there's a good diner a few blocks down."

Lance's reply is strained. "No. Thank. You."

Keith's half smile falls a little. He can tell when he's being blown off. “Okay, it's cool. I've got soccer tryouts tomorrow. I'm just gonna...um...” He  drifts off when it's obvious Lance doesn't give two shits. Sighing, Keith goes over to his dresser, grabs a different hoodie and shrugs it on.

Lance turns his chair back around so that it's facing Keith, clears his throat loudly, opens his laptop and puts in a pair of earbuds. The universal signal that he's done talking.

It hurts more than Keith cares to acknowledge.

They're just two strangers forced to share a college dorm, pretending that the other doesn't exist.

Keith finds his phone, selects his workout playlist, makes sure the volume is low and begins his workout session on the ground. 

With every push-up he does, the smallest of grunts are forced from his lungs. As he continues, he can't help but notice Lance's legs fidgeting uncomfortably. He's also not even typing. Still doing homework then?

Trying to ignore the other boy's presence, Keith does a few more exercises before finishing up his workout with five sets of thirty crunches. Once he's finished, he picks up one of the plastic water bottles on his nightstand and takes a big swig of it.

As he drinks, he feels Lance's eyes on him. Lowering the bottle, he meets his gaze. "Do you want some water or something?"

Lance rubs one of his eyes, almost sheepishly. "No, thanks. I just...you seem pretty fit. Are you good at soccer?"

Keith is too caught off guard to even attempt to mask his surprise. His room-mate has never shown interest in anything he does- and vice versa until today. "Um," He scratches the back of his neck. "I don't know. I'm alright. I don't have a scholarship or anything. I just figured I'd do a walk on."

"That's cool," Lance sounds genuinely interested. "I didn't even know you did sports."

"Well," Keith sits down on his bed and folds his legs underneath him. "There's a lot of stuff you don't know about me."

Lance slowly sets his laptop back on the desk and removes his earbuds. "Like what kind of stuff?"

Keith thinks carefully about his next words. This is important- Lance hates him yeah, but this could be his chance to turn it around. Keith finds Lance annoying sometimes and insufferable at other times but he's actually kind of cute and his perspective on life is a little contagious. Maybe, they can hit the refresh button and try again. After all, Keith doesn't want to feel like this for a whole semester.

Finally, after thinking for a few moments, he leans forward on his bed, tilts his head conspiratorially and stage whispers, "I wasn't potty-trained until I was seven."

The brown-haired boy blinks at him for a moment before an authentic laugh bursts from his lips. The sound of his hand slapping his leg in amusement fills the air as he grins widely. "No shit! Keith Kogane wet his pants until he was seven!"

Keith feigns a hurt look, but can't stop his own grin from spreading to his lips. "Hey, you can't tell anyone okay? It's a secret."

Lance giggles but nods in confirmation. "Yeah, yeah. Still, that's embarrassing Mr. Dark and Serious.

Keith makes a mental note to remember how beautiful Lance's laugh is. He'd give anything to hear it again. So...he's okay with this. Lance, well, he's not so bad.

"I was scared of the toilet," Keith shrugs. "Now that I've told you something though, you have to tell me a secret."

For a second, Keith thinks he may have overstepped. Just because he told his room-mate a secret doesn't mean he should demand one in return. But Lance just nods again, brow furrowing in concentration. "Okay," He begins. "When I was a sophomore in high school, this one girl wanted to have sex with me. I got scared but didn't know how to say no so she went to the bathroom to change, I guess. I'll never know because I booked it as fast as I could all the way home and she's never talked to me since."

Keith can't help snickering at Lance's misfortune and, shockingly, Lance laughs along with him.

"So are you still a virgin, then?" Keith asks once they've calmed down a little.

Lance stands from his seat and sits himself on his own bed so that they're directly across from one another. "Yup."

"Mm, maybe that's why you're so uptight," Keith muses, eyes twinkling. "You need to get laid."

His room-mate ponders that. "I'm only uptight with you. You make me...tense. But, who would you suggest?"

 _Me,_ Keith thinks to himself. But no- he can't ruin this moment. God, if Lance knew he was gay that might freak him out. The boy might be bisexual himself, but most guys flip if they find out the dude they were sharing rooms with is gay. That is not something Keith needs to add to his plate right now.

"I don't know," Keith says instead. "You can't think of one person you want to hook up with?"

Lance turns up the palms of his hands in a 'guess not' sort of way. "There's only one person I've really thought about since I got here. But they might already have a boyfriend."

“Oh, really? That's cool.” Keith does his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. “Who's the lucky girl?"

"It's not a girl, actually," Lance looks down at his lap. He does that a lot, Keith realizes. Misdirects his gaze when he's uncomfortable.

So. It's not a girl. Just because it's not a girl doesn't mean it's him though- Keith doesn't have a boyfriend. "That's an easy fix," He jokes, forcing another laugh out. "Just steal him from his boyfriend."

Lance frowns down at his hands. "I don't know about that. I think they've been together a long time. Plus, I don't think he likes me back."

"What? Someone doesn't like the great Lance McClain?" Keith grabs his pillow and wraps it around his head, as if he just can't believe the words he just heard.

“Hey!” Lance crosses his arms over his defined chest. "I'm a catch!"

"Yeah, sure, I suppose." Keith says nonchalantly as he tosses his pillow at the other boy.

"Aha!" Lance crows, catching the pillow before shooting to his feet so he's standing on top of his bed. He points an accusing finger at Keith. “You think I'm attractive.”

"What?" Keith blinks, obviously blindsided by the question. "God, you're sneaky."

Lance throws the pillow back, albeit much harder so that the force of it has Keith toppling backwards onto the covers of his bed. "But I'm attractive right? I wanna know. Am I actually completely hideous and no one has ever been brutally honest with me?"

"Oh my God," Keith groans, clambering back into a sitting position. "You've got a hideous personality but no, you're not a hideous person."

"Wow," Lance jumps a few times on his bed, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face. "I'm glad I got that cleared up. Thanks."

"Anytime," is the black haired boy's response, amusement lining his words as he watches his room-mate bounce on his bed, not unlike a three year-old.

As Lance continues jumping, something enters Keith's mind that he can't shake.

And.

Fucking.

Hell.

He has a crush on Lance- the boy from the party, his room-mate, his previous sworn enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some updates on my life: We won our volleyball game the other day. Which was great because it went to 5 sets and during Varsity games you play best of 5 instead of 3 as usual. One of our girls got injured so I played all the way around the entire time and that was a little tiring. Freshman year I would have totally loved to do that. Where did my motivation go?
> 
> Annnd, AP Environmental is killing my ass. It's so boring. I've got way too many AP classes, which is hilarious because I didn't ask for any of these but I can't switch because our school is dumb. AND MY JOB HASN'T PUT ME ON FOR 2 WEEKS AND I'M CONFUSED BECAUSE I NEVER ASKED FOR THESE DAYS OFF. It's cool. I'm cool. Rant done. Already typing the next chapter, just don't know when it will be up. Hopefully in a few days.


	5. Somewhere Between Hate and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is getting a little hot and bothered. Except he's pretty sure Keith has a boyfriend. Shiro, right?
> 
> I'm terrible at these chapter summaries, I'm so sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. My computer blew up and I almost lost everything on it. I still don't know if it works but I wrote this chapter anyway. Mostly on my phone, but it's cool.

Keith doesn't say a lot, Lance noticed that on the first day.

He still doesn't, even now that they're two and a half weeks into the term.

Sitting at the outdoor tables where hardly anyone else is, his antisocial-ness is made even more obvious. Lance has already made his way over to his friends at one table and even had a conversation about whether _The Force Awakens_ was a good movie or not with Pidge. (Yes, in his opinion. Pidge believed it was just a copy disguised as a new movie.) He's been having a great time talking to another girl, Nyma, until he looks up and notices Keith sitting by himself.

The boy is seated to the far right, near the trashcans, hunched in over a tray of crusty school pancakes that lay next to an untouched Styrofoam cup of black coffee.

Why isn't he talking to anyone? Lance debates with himself on whether or not he should bring his room-mate over to this table or go sit with him. What will Pidge and Hunk think of him? They don't even know that Keith goes here- God, that's a conversation that the brown-haired boy has yet to have. He is _so_ not looking forward to that. What would he even say? 

_Hey guys, remember that douche bag from that neon party? He's goes to this college too. Also, he's my room-mate. And- I think I like him._

In the end, he settles on neither. Keith and him might not be mortal enemies anymore, but they certainly aren't great friends. Not on this level, anyway. Besides, Keith needs to know how to interact socially without a hand to hold. Or at least, that's how Lance justifies it.

"Lance?" Hunk interrupts Lance's thoughts to squint at him from across the table. "Nyma asked you a question."

"Oh, yeah?" Lance turns his attention back to his group of friends, and the other college students at his table. More specifically, the blonde girl next to him.

Nyma giggles, a little dumbly. Lance is already a little annoyed with her high pitched voice and excessive use of the word 'like.' 

"So, like what class do you have first?" Nyma twirls a strand of her blonde hair, batting her false lashes in a way she must think is cute.

"Ah, good question," Lance tries to remember but it's hard when his gaze keeps going back to Keith, alone at his table. "I think it's Astronomy with uhm...Professor Varkon might be his name."

"I did pin you as a space junkie," Nyma laughs, scooting closer to Lance so that the fabric of her skirt is brushing up against his leg "I have that class first too, you know."

Lance forces himself to laugh too, but his heart isn't really in it. _What is wrong with him?_   Usually he's flirting up girls left and right by now. 

"Wow, I can't believe I haven't noticed you before. It's a pretty big class though and..." He drifts off when Nyma casually slides a hand onto his shoulder. Lance notices that Hunk looks a little uncomfortable and the two other boys, Rolo and Prorok he thinks are their names, look a bit jealous. Lance wishes he could tell them that they shouldn't be jealous at all- in fact he'd gladly hand Nyma over right now if he could. Pidge, the only other female at the table, is busy tapping away on her laptop, completely uncaring of what's going on next to her.

"Sometimes I just get really into whatever is being taught," Lance finishes his sentence, mouth feeling slightly dry. He isn't a stranger to girls touching him, in fact usually it counts as a win. Nyma's hand however, although she is insanely attractive, feels exactly like the opposite of a win. He swears, he can feel someone's gaze on him from across the lunch area.

"I could teach you a lot of things," Nyma lowers her voice so only Lance can hear.

"Oh, haha," Lance shrugs her hand off of him, trying to keep his tone light. "That's super cool of you. I didn't know you were a peer tutor."

Nyma is noticeably put out, her lip curling as she snatches her hand back. She recovers remarkably quickly though, that can be admitted. "No, silly," She's back to giggling as she flips her blonde locks over her shoulder. 

Lance thinks she might be about to say something else but he scrambles up off the seat before it can happen. "Well, I should really go freshen up before class. I'll see you guys around." He gives a quick salute to Hunk, Rolo, Prorok and Pidge.

"Classes doesn't start for a little over fifteen more minutes," Pidge points out without even glancing up from her screen.

"I know that," Lance grits out as he tries to make eye contact with Pidge but it's practically hopeless. "Thanks for the reminder."

"See ya in Aviation Maintenance." Hunk calls, busy doing his best to create a fruity, buttery masterpiece with his pancakes.

"If I don't ditch," Lance teases. Then quickly, without making eye contact with an obviously furious Nyma, he turns and walks away as quickly as he dares without making it obvious that he wants to leave quickly.

He's so busy watching Nyma through his peripheral vision, in fact, that he doesn't even notice the edge of a sharp table corner until he slams into it, catching it just below his right hip. "Motherfuc-" He starts, but cuts himself off when he realizes who the table currently belongs to.

Keith raises an unamused eyebrow at him, obviously waiting for Lance to finish cursing.

"Fucker," Lance frowns, watching Keith's expression as he carefully rubs his now bruising side.

The other boy shrugs, then shifts his attention back to his untouched pancakes.

Lance stands there, for almost the first time in his life unsure of what to do. Is he allowed to talk to Keith outside of the dorm room? Would he like that? They've been on better terms, yes, but Lance doesn't want to cross any lines.

"Uh," He starts smoothly. "You a waffle person?" He gestures to the uneaten pancakes.

Keith stabs one of the stacks with his fork and lifts them closer to his face, turning it so he can inspect them. "If you'd gotten these pancakes, you wouldn't be eating them either." He gives Lance a dry smile, and Lance can't help but notice the way his nose pulls up. It's kind of adorable. In a Keith-way.

"Oh, uh," Lance shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, just now becoming aware that he was fidgeting. "That sucks. Maybe we should just make our own pancakes next time."

Keith's expression turns into something Lance doesn't recognize, and for a moment he's scared he might have said something wrong. But just as quickly as it came, the moment is gone and he's back to his sarcastic self. "And watch you flounder about like a complete fool? Might have to pass on that one, McPain."

"Ha, ha." Lance rolls his eyes. 

"Anyway," The other boy abruptly stands. "I'm gonna go back to the dorm before class."

"Oh, I'm going back right now too."

"Shitballs," Keith responds, ever so eloquently, taking a single bite from one pancake, dripping with syrup, before tossing the plate over his shoulder. He successfully manages to get them into the trash bin, somehow. Casually, he picks up his coffee, swipes some hair from his eyes then looks Lance straight in the eyes. "Just because we're on better terms doesn't mean you have to try to make pointless conversation."

"Thank God," Lance responds. He's not sure how it comes across. He wanted it to be joking but he isn't sure if it sounded that way.

Truth is, he doesn't hate Keith. The other boy puts up with him. They don't hate each other anymore, at least Lance doesn't think they do, but they're not about to be singing any friendship songs anytime soon. For Lance, he's somewhere between hate and love. The line is a little blurry.

Still, Lance enjoys his biting yet generally quippy and or sarcastic remarks. It sucks because he can't tell Keith this, or any of his friends. No one can know he's going soft on the douche bag from the party.

* * *

Lance let himself into the dorm room at the end of the day, shuffling in with heavy feet. God, his legs are tired from having to run to both classes. Sure, he enjoys running but usually because there's glory at the end. When you're a college student and you run to every class all you get is depression and another class at the end of it.

He doesn't even realize that Keith is passed out on his bed until he's already kicking his shoes off and plopping down onto his own adjacent bed.

For a second, Lance isn't sure if he's even alive, but upon further inspection he notices the small huffs of breath coming from his lips along with the slow rise and fall of his chest. His eyes are completely shut and _wow_ \- he looks much calmer in his sleep. His eyelashes are kind of beautiful.

Lance thinks back to two nights ago when Keith had come in, completely drenched from the rain outside. Aside from the fact that he'd looked cute and flushed from the weather, it'd been awkward when Keith asked what he'd been doing.  _I looked up your name and found your social media and now I'm scrolling through all these posts you have of this one super hot guy. Is he your boyfriend? Are you gay?_ Instead, his room-mate, being the world renowned detective that he is, deduced that Lance was watching porn. Looking back on it, Lance wishes he'd just said he was watching porn.

Lance watches the black haired boy sleep for two seconds longer, then decides to see what's on Netflix before he starts feeling like a creep.

He's a half hour into _Titanic_ when he hears Keith shifting on his bed. 

"Seriously?" Keith props himself up on one elbow, peering over at Lance through sleep-filled eyes. "That's such a cliche."

Lance presses the space bar on his laptop to pause the movie and gives Keith a once over. "People who don't like _Titanic_ are just jealous of what Jack and Rose have."

"Heterosexuality?" His room-mate flops back onto his bed, this time on his stomach so that Lance is still in his line of sight.

"Well, I kind of meant their beautiful relationship," Lance rubs at the back of his neck, trying not to read too hard between the lines of Keith's words. So, does this confirm that Keith is gay? Or at least- _not straight_?

Keith doesn't say anything about that. Instead, he turns his head to the alarm clock on his college-issued nightstand. "I don't have any classes left today, but I'm starving. We should order a pizza." He's already got his phone in hand before Lance can say a word. "Pineapple and ham good?"

Lance shakes his head. "No. Uh uh. We are not putting pineapple on pizza. What kind of sick joke was that?"

Keith puts the phone to his ear, frowning at Lance as the number dials. "What? Fine. Pepperoni?"

He receives a curt nod.

In a short half-hour, the pizza arrives. Keith tips the delivery guy and brings the box to his bed. The smell is, to say the least, perfect. The aroma of cheese and sauce and bread mixed together is heavenly. Lance is already drooling before Keith even hands him a greasy slice.

"Hey," Lance starts, speaking around a mouthful of pizza. He doesn't even let Keith look up before he continues. "Do you think you should meet Pidge and Hunk?"

The other boy frowns at his pizza, considering the question. "I've already met them."

"No, no. I mean for real. They don't know you go here yet but they think you're an asshole."

"Are they wrong?"

"Yes! I mean, sometimes you are but that's not the point."

Keith sets his pizza slice on top of the box and gives Lance a serious look. "This is an important step in our relationship, Lance. Are you ready for me to meet your best friends?"

Lance snorts. "I think, if this is going to work, then you'll have to. We can do it tomorrow night after classes or something."

"Sure, wait," Keith pauses and his head tilts to the left. "I can't do tomorrow night. My...Shiro is taking me to a bar."

Shiro. That name sounds familiar. Lance almost says that aloud before he remembers where he's seen it before- when he was stalking Keith's social media two days ago. That's Keith's boyfriend, or at least he's pretty sure. He's definitely good looking enough to be.

"Oh, who's Shiro?" Lance asks, because it's the obvious thing to do. He's got to play it cool. He's not mad- no, Keith isn't even his or anything. They barely know each other after all.

"He's my best friend," Keith answers, face the most relaxed Lance has ever seen it. "We haven't seen each other in awhile. Figured we should probably do something so he knows I'm okay or y'know, he'll get all protective of me."

"Is Shiro the jealous type?" Lance picks at a thread on his jeans, trying to keep his voice casual. That's all this is- friendly banter. Not an interrogation. He certainly isn't trying to gather as much data on this Shiro guy as he can. Lance McClain isn't the jealous type- nope.

"Hmm," Keith takes a bite of his slice, wiping the sauce that drips onto his chin with the back of his hand. "He's not a jealous guy but he's cautious. If you can tell the difference."

Lance digests this information. "What time is Shiro coming around?"

"I don't know. I think he said seven."

"You could meet Hunk and Pidge at like six-forty then," Lance snaps his fingers. "Just enough time."

Externally, Lance is a confident college student. He appears to be a normal guy with his life completely under control. Internally, well, he's shitting himself.


	6. Oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's hiding something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Voltron so idk why I haven't updated this in so long. Sorry :(

"You're Lance's room-mate?" Pidge looks Keith up and down, scrunching her nose up in what can only be perceived as disgust. It makes the boy feel self-conscious but if he overreacts then he might never get another chance at getting along with Lance's friends. He pushes down any instincts that involve him lashing out and forces himself to nod.

The four of them are standing in Keith and Lance's dorm- Lance is close to Keith, shoulder's nearly brushing his while Pidge and Hunk gape incredulously from the doorway.

"Oh no," Hunk shoves his way between Lance and Keith. "This won't do. Lance, buddy, you should have told us sooner. You can come stay with us until the semester is up. We don't have to tell anyone."

Keith opens his mouth to say something, possibly object but Hunk cuts him off before he can even start. "No. We don't need your opinions, all right? You get this whole room to yourself. We get Lance."

"Wait a second," Keith narrows his eyes, thinly veiled anger, well... _thinly veiled_. "You don't even live in this dorm. How can you even-"

"Why would you even want to have Lance around?" Pidge puts in, adjusting her glasses. "You don't have to be difficult just for the purpose of being-"

"Guys!" Lance very nearly shouts, frowning hard. "I didn't invite you here to save me or anything. Opposite to his mullet, this guy is actually pretty cool. I think you all should give him a chance."

"Oh..." Pidge appears somewhat apologetic. It's a little difficult to tell what with her face glued to her phone.

"Give him a chance," Hunk repeats as if this is a foreign concept. He cocks his head to give Keith a skeptical look. "You're sure he isn't blackmailing you into saying this?"

Lance shifts his blue eyes to the ceiling, most likely offering a silent prayer to the heavens. "I'm sure, amigo."

"Hmm," The bigger boy takes a few step around Keith- probably trying to be intimidating but in reality he looks like a kicked puppy. Keith does his best not to crack a smile- they might not appreciate that."What's your name again? Keef?"

The chuckle from Lance isn't even half suppressed and he earns a glower from Keith as result.

"Actually, no," the black haired boy shrugs, then adds almost hesitantly: "It's, um, Keith."

"Wait," Pidge's eyes fly up from her screen, gaze immediately filling with something Keith is scared to label  _admiration_. "This...I can't believe I didn't notice this before. Are you Keith Kogane? _The_ Keith Kogane?"

Keith nods, feeling a little uncomfortable. This is the first time anyone has recognized him at this school and honestly, he's a little unprepared for it. His ancestry isn't really well known, and not many would care much, but Pidge certainly seems to be taking interest.

"Wow, you look..." Pidge seems at a loss for words. "I don't know. Different than I imagined?"

Keith is aware exactly what she's insinuating. She thought he'd be taller. Handsomer. Smarter.

"Hold on a second," Lance furrows his brow, brings his hands up to make a makeshift telescope and stares at his roommate in a stupor. "You're famous or something and didn't tell me?"

Keith tries to swat his hands down, but Lance keeps them steady.

"It's um...really not something I want to talk about." Keith tries not to show how uncomfortable he is, and usually he's good at hiding his emotions but right now he may as well be an open book.

Pidge takes the opening and clears her throat. "Uh, Keith came from the Garrison. He was really good at piloting- won some national awards."

"And that's it," Keith keeps his tone light but pointedly locks gazes with Pidge. "Nothing else."

Hunk squints, obviously trying to figure out what's missing from the equation. Keith can practically see the cogs turning in his brain. "I don't get it. What's so important about him? Other than that he's a pilot?"

Lance seems confused too. "If you were famous, wouldn't that have been information on your Face-" He interrupts himself with a hacking cough, cheeks turning slightly red. "Your face, um...your face would give it away. You'd be noticed everywhere." Something about the other boy's expression is off but it's hard to tell exactly what it is.

"Well," Keith mumbles as he suddenly finds that his shoes are the most fascinating thing in the room. "The Garrison is a fairly prestigious academy. It's not as big a deal as Pidge is making it though."

Based on everyone's silence, none of them  believe that Pidge is underselling his achievements. 

After another beat, Lance chuckles a little. "That's so sick, man you're lucky. I always wanted to get into the Garrison. I had to go to Naxzela - only place my family could afford to send me to with so many hungry mouths to feed." Despite the somewhat disheartening story, the brown-eyed boy keeps smiling.

Something about the way he smiles stirs something inside Keith. It's entrancing in a way and Keith thinks he could be content with just watching Lance smile for years.

 _Damn,_ he scolds himself.  _Get your shit together._

"You're right, the Garrison is expensive as hell," Hunk takes a half step forward, peering down at Keith with curiosity. "Did you get scholarships or something? How did you afford it?" He's obviously making this judgment based off of Keith's wardrobe. Not necessarily great logic, but he clearly is making the assumption that if Keith were rich he'd dress wealthy.

"I, uh," Keith's mind races.  _Think of a lie. The longer you stall, the more suspicious they get._ "I went there with a scholarship and financial aid. It wasn't too much in the end."

A knock sounds from the door and Keith doesn't think he's ever been more thankful for an interruption than he is right now. Shiro is very early but it's not altogether surprising. He's just that kind of guy.

Kieth rushes to get the door before Pidge can say anything about his false story. He's almost certain she knows exactly how he got into the Garrison. If she knew his name then it was almost a sure bet that she knew his history too.

After unceremoniously yanking the door open, Keith finds himself face to face with a grinning Shiro. "Hey, babe," Is the first thing out of the older boy's mouth.

Keith doesn't even fight the urge to roll his eyes at that - Shiro might possibly be the gayest straight man he's ever met. And of course he'd seize the opportunity to call him "babe" in front of a few perfect strangers. Shiro thinks the gesture is something of an intimidation tactic, but sometimes just thinks it's funny to watch people's actions. Keith has no idea where he gets these ideas.

"Dipshit," He responds but allows himself to be pulled into a strong hug. In truth, he's missed Shiro. He would never admit it but the time he gets to spend with his best friend is always treasured. Shiro doesn't let go for a solid few seconds, much longer than any hug has a right to last but Keith doesn't protest. If there's anyone he'll allow to actually physically touch him then it's Shiro.

After what happened...well Keith's not sure he'll ever be able to let anyone closer than a hug. It embarrasses him that he's so weak but...he can't do anything about the past.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when Shiro finally pulls back.

"Ready to head out?" The man asks, leaning casually on the door frame. He looks past Keith and gives his trademark nod to Pidge, Lance and Hunk. His smile is warm but his eyes are calculating. Keith's sure he's trying to discern if these college students have been kind to him or not but doesn't say anything about it. Instead he chooses just to answer the question.

He nods, thoughts still a little murky. "Yeah, let me get my jacket."

As he turns back into the room, leaving his friend in the hallway, the look on Lance's face distracts Keith and he nearly trips over a discarded towel. He recovers quickly and when he glances back up at Lance the other boy's face is completely neutral once again. Was he imagining it? If Keith didn't know any better, it would almost seem like Lance was...angry? Angry at him? Nothing new, he supposes.

The dark haired boy snags his jacket off the headboard of his bed and shrugs it on. "I'll be back later," He tells Lance, a little uncertainly. Then to Pidge and Hunk: "It was really nice meeting you guys...in better circumstances, anyway." 

"You too," Hunk smiles. "We can count this as a fresh start." Pidge just nods, bangs falling into her face with the motion.

As Keith starts back to the hallway where Shiro is waiting, it unnerves him that Lance hasn't said a single word since Shiro arrived. He's tempted to look back, just to try to figure out what his roommate is thinking but ultimately decides not to. It shouldn't matter what Lance is thinking - the other boy would never feel the same way he does about him. It's best to keep his mind off of these kind of things.

"So," Shiro says as soon as they shut the door firmly behind them. "Want to get completely wasted?"

Keith considers the older boy. "Seems like a bad idea."

"That means you're in, right?"

"Definitely."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely disregarded the canon origin story with Keith's Texan father. For the sake of the story, of course. And it's weird that Keith has a Texan father.
> 
> Also, I wanted Shiro to seem like a fun dude and I am all for Space Dad but idk if canon Shiro would ask Keith to get wasted. I could see it happening but sorry if it seemed OC?
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was short but the plot is thiccccening, I promise. I hope to get the next one out fairly soon. I'm actually really sorry for the infrequent updating.


	7. Admonitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance isn't thinking clearly and we know exactly who's to blame. Maybe Lotor can help.

It's stupid really, but Lance can't shake the feeling of despair that seems to be a never relenting emotion swirling in his belly.

He reverts back to old habits, which just means he's avoiding Keith as much as possible. What else is he to do? Keith would never date him - and he's got _Shiro._

The older man is incredibly good looking and Lance hates to admit that. He's even better looking in person - the photo's on Keith's Facebook don't do him justice at all. 

The night Keith came home from his date, Lance pretended to be asleep. He'd stumbled in, making quite a ruckus in taking his shoes and jacket off before bodily flopping onto his bed. Very tired and very drunk. Lance wasn't an idiot - he'd seen how Keith lit up when Shiro came to pick him up. The two were happy together. 

Lance should be happy for them. Right?

"Stop thinking about it," Lance mutters under his breath as he crosses the weight room to pick up his water bottle. The only places he really feels free to vent out his frustrations are when he's home with his siblings, in the gym or on the track. With the track being redone before the season, he's only got access to one of those right now.

"Stop thinking about what?" A voice from behind him asks, jolting Lance from his thoughts. He tries not to seem too startled but he's sure he's doing a poor job of covering it. 

The person standing only a foot behind him is tall, at least another head over him and that's impressive because lance doesn't think himself as short. The guy is lanky as well but there's obvious muscle underneath his form fitting clothes. He's got to be an upperclassmen. Only seniors could adopt the "I could give less than a fuck right now" posture and still look intimidating. Lance has to reflect for a moment before he can pinpoint exactly why this dude looks vaguely familiar.

"Lotor," He guesses aloud, squinting at the same time.

"The one and only," The captain of the soccer team acknowledges. "And you are...Lance, right?"

Lance frowns openly at that. "How do you know my name?"

Lotor waves a dismissive hand through the air as he bends to pick up a rather heavy looking 150 lb weight. "I make it my business to know." He straights back up and flexes his bicep upward, no signs of effort displayed on his face despite the impressive weight.

Lance can't help but stare as his long hair floats around his shoulders, not unlike a waterfall. He sort of wants to ask what conditioner Lotor used but ultimately decides it really isn't the time to ask. "Um, alright then."

"Regardless, what are you attempting to stop thinking about?" Lotor's voice remains causal but his eyes are far too calculating to fool Lance into thinking this is just a random question.

"Nothing," Lance feels a little uncomfortable as he tilts the front of his water bottle toward his mouth.

The words " _I make it my business to know_ ", ring clearly through his thoughts. What exactly has the senior captain of the Paladins soccer team learned about him?

"Hmm," The captain hums in a dismissive way that doesn't reveal any of his thoughts. "Interesting. Truth is, Lance, I was asked to talk to you."

Lance guzzles down half of his water before setting it aside and raising an eyebrow. _Who would go through Lotor to give me a message? Why not just talk to me directly?_   The confusion must be quite evident because Lotor laughs a little and continues, "Nyma is interested in going on a date with you. I owe her a favor, so this is my part. If you accept, then you can call her or something." Lotor digs through the pockets of his shorts until he comes up with a small slip of paper.

Nyma.

Lance had almost forgotten about her. Something about her possessive demeanor and high pitched voice had probably been factors into erasing her from his memories.

Back then, even if he hadn't quite realized it yet, his sights were set on only one person.

 _It's clear that Keith and I won't be happening,_ the rational side of him acknowledges. _What's the harm in trying something out with Nyma? It might help get over a boy that I was barely friends with and never even dated. God, I'm pathetic._

"Okay," Lance swallows thickly, realizing he's been staring at Lotor's extended hand for seconds too long. He clumsily accepts the piece of paper and scans it for a moment.

201-126-7851

Nyma <3

There's an explainable feeling of revulsion at seeing a heart on the paper, but Lance tries to connect it with the fact that he's been working out for an hour now. He's just not feeling great. That's all.

"Great," Lotor nods, watching Lance place the note into his own pocket. "I've got to go to practice. Lots of new recruits to torture." He tosses a wave of hair behind his shoulders and laughs loudly. "Just kidding." There's a gleam in the other boy's eye that gives the Lance the feeling that he isn't joking at all.

"Alright. See you around," Lance plays it off, coolly observing Lotor put down the weight and exit the room.

Everything about the guy screams _don't trust me_. But Lance can't exactly figure out why. All the dude had done was set him up with someone - no reason to paint him as a bad guy.

His thoughts slowly drift to the newly acquired paper in his gym shorts and he can't help but feel a little sick about it.

 _Nyma could be more agreeable in a one on one setting,_ he convinces himself. _There's no way she could be any more annoying than the first time._

Eventually, he settles on taking a shower and sleeping on it so he grabs a towel from the metal rack in the corner, drapes the cloth over his shoulders and trudges back to the dorm.

_STUPID._

This is his first thought when he shoulders the door open.

 _You're getting sloppy,_ he rebukes himself as he watches Keith, still very much in the room, in the midst of slipping on a black soccer uniform. It's emblazoned with a gold number 2. _Of course_ Keith is still here. Practice isn't technically supposed to start for a few more minutes. Keith doesn't arrive at places early, though he's never late either. Lance has memorized the schedule and made avoiding the black haired boy into a science of its own but trust a dubiously intentioned soccer captain and an annoying blonde to render him forgetful.

As Lance debates just turning around and waiting in the hallway the other boy emerges from his uniform and spots him. 

"Lance," Keith says, sounding startled but not unfriendly. He looks like he wants to say something else but thinks better of it, judging from the way his gaze drops to his shoes.

Lance can't help but follow his gaze, but he gets stuck on the small patch of skin showing from where Keith's uniform hasn't quite covered it. It's pale, just like the rest of the dark haired boy but there's something else there too. Something dark...it's definitely the same mark as the first time he saw it. It's hard to tell from here and- Keith tugs his uniform fully down over his waist and turns to his soccer bag on the floor.

Lance watches as he settles onto the bed, apparently not going to say anything else, and begins to tug on his cleats.

The brown haired boy wonders if he should try to attempt small talk or something, just to fill the silence until he's gone.

He doesn't want to he decides, it's too painful, So he doesn't acknowledge Keith as he moves from his place in the doorway and strides past the beds. He makes it look as if he has a purpose, which he sort of does, as he crosses to his dresser and rummages through the drawers to find clean clothing. He tries to ignore the hurt that flashes across Keith's face as he turns away but it somehow lodges itself into Lance's edeidtic memory.

"Well," Keith says awkwardly to Lance's back. "I've got to go to practice. The captain will have my ass if I'm not there on time."

 _Lotor probably would,_ Lance thinks to himself but outwardly he only nods, still facing away from his roommate. He refuses verbally acknowledge him- he doesn't trust his voice not to crack or say something that might incriminate himself.

The only indication that Keith has left is the sound of the door clicking shut quietly behind him.

Once he's gone, Lance lets out an audible sigh of relief and throws himself onto his bed with more force than really necessary. God, this sucks.

 _Stop feeling sorry for yourself,_ Lance glowers at himself, feeling angry and frustrated at the same time. 

He turns onto his stomach and looks blearily at Keith's bed, trying and failing not to think of how peaceful the other boy looks when he's sleeping. Not that Lance watches him...that would be creepy as hell. Just sometimes, he likes to admire. _Is that worse? Ugh._

On Keith's nightstand, a red notebook sits precariously balanced on top of an alarm clock. Lance peers at it skeptically. He's never seen that before - he thought he'd accounted for everything Keith owned. But it's red, Keith's favorite color (followed by black), so he's almost certain it's his. 

 _But it could be someone else's,_ Lance reasons. In that case, he's just making sure nothing dangerous or unwanted has entered their home. That gives him a right to read it.

With some difficulty due to the soreness in his arms, he pushes himself off the bed and over to Keith's. The notebook is fairly small and bound by a single leather strap. The pages are worn down inside and it's got the sort of dusty smell.

The first page is a note, and at first Lance is startled because it seems to be a letter but it reveals itself to just be an entry of sorts.

_Hi, this is the start of my collection. My therapist said it would help and I think it will too. Poetry is important to me, as cheesy as it sounds. I'll write my own and include my favorites here as well._

_\- Keith_

Lance isn't sure what he'd been expecting but poetry hadn't really been on the top of his list. All entries are hand written onto each page with neat cursive and small annotations next to certain stanzas. The book isn't filled all the way- there's still two blank pages left.

Some of the poems are obviously Shakespeare, some less known authors and some are undoubtedly written by Keith himself, as he'd mentioned he would do. Lance can tell which are his because lines are crossed out on his and there are no comments in the margins.

_Somewhere below, we know deep in our hearts_

_A deserted world, we all stand alone_

_Forsaken, we’ll no longer play the part_

_‘Cos in imagination there’s no throne_

_Reality’s just better in our mind_

_Here, we do not have to chase perfection_

_Chains on this pillar can no longer bind_

_True actuality hasn’t inception_

_Leave your fear and let go of all your dread_

_Reality’s a shadow under beds_

Lance reads over the first poem written by Keith several times, trying to guess what could have persuaded him to write something so blatantly dark and despairing. He has a sinking suspicion that maybe it has something to do with the bit about his therapist. 

Just...why would his roommate need a therapist in the first place? There's some reason, perhaps something from his past, that he's kept from Lance.

The longer Lance reads through the notes and original works, the more he realizes he doesn't know Keith at all.

Something that catches his eye are two stanzas Keith has highlighted vigorously from Anne Sexton's "Admonitions to A Special Person." 

 _Watch out for power,_  
_for its avalanche can bury you,_  
_snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain._

 _Watch out for friends,_  
_because when you betray them,_  
_as you will,_  
_they will bury their heads in the toilet_  
_and flush themselves away._

There are no notes in this work; nothing to indicate his thoughts at all. Just various circles and boxes.

Shutting the notebook with trembling hands, Lance sets it carefully back on top of the alarm clock and goes to pick up his clean clothes that he'd left on his own bed. In a stupor of sorts, he heads for the bathroom. A shower. He needs a shower. He does his best thinking in the water...

And after that? His hand returns to the pocket of his shorts and makes contact with the paper there. Maybe he'll give Nyma a call.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Keith's poem is actually one of mine but it's sort of angsty so I thought I'd just use it. I'm a huge fan of poetry, as of a few months ago, and while I'm no good at poetry myself I appreciate works from people like Shakespeare, Dylan Thomas, Sylvia Plath and others.
> 
> Thanks for sticking through this far everyone :) It means a lot and I appreciate all your comments and support.


	8. Unravel Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why does Keith need a therapist? Lance finally gets his answers, though he might wish he hadn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #angst. Trigger warning for abuse! Keith POV.

If Lance is trying to infuriate him, then he's definitely succeeding. It's not that hard to get under skin, Keith doesn't have trouble admitting that. He knows he can be...a little hot headed at times. (Or at least, that's what his therapist says. She's a paid professional, so he supposes she's right.)

Everyday after two hour lectures and debates in every class he rushes out to the soccer field for practice, tired and educated-out. Lotor has absolutely no qualms with running him into the ground, even though Keith is just a walk-on. 

"You're tough, kid," Lotor commented a week into the season, hands clasped behind his back and long hair pulled back into a somehow extremely fashionable ponytail. His eyes glinted predatorily, and Keith couldn't decide if it was a compliment based on the 'you're tough' or an insult based on the 'kid'.

"Uh, thanks." He'd replied, taking a much needed swig of water while also trying to keep the other man in his peripheral.

"I want you on the field for the game against Balmera Academy," the captain had continued in the same nonchalant tone. "But you'll have to prove to me that you're a man. I've seen a lot of effort put in from you, but it's not enough. I run one of the best soccer programs in the country, and I'll not have our winning streak ruined. If I put you on the roster, can I count on you to work hard?"

Keith nodded, heart rate picking up significantly, although he honestly couldn't discern if he was afraid or excited. Both? "Uh, yeah. I can do that."

Lotor stepped closer, a little closer than Keith thought was really necessary, making the height difference that much more noticeable. 

His voice lowered to barely more than a whisper, "If you make me look like a fool, Keith...I'll make your life a living hell." He stepped back, an unsettling grin spreading across his face. "So, extra practices. Advanced workouts. No distractions. Got it?"

What was he supposed to do? He nodded again and then, immediately after, he was forced to do 50 extra push ups.

It didn't help matters that immediately after practice everyday, all he wanted to do was go take a nap in his dorm and take a well deserved shower. However, Lance was always there - which normally wouldn't have been an issue. It was who he was _with_ that set Keith's nerves ablaze.

Today, for example, he'd come staggering into the dorm only to find Nyma and his horny roommate making out on the floor, sans shirts.

"What the fuck?" Keith muttered, attempting to step over the handsy couple in an effort to dump his cleats by his bed table. He kept one hand up in front of his face, so he could shield his eyes. "Do you have to do this on the floor?"

Lance had popped up, hair messy and tangled. He grinned at Keith, "Oh, hey! Didn't realize you were here."

Nyma had poked her head out from underneath his roommate as well, though based on her irritated scowl she seemed less thrilled to see him.

Keith ran a hand through his own hair, trying to once again take use of the breathing techniques he'd been taught. "Lance. C'mon...I'm tired. Can't you find somewhere else to do this?"

No one in their right mind would enjoy watching a couple get up in one another's business, especially when you're the third wheel. Another factor he refuses to include in the equation, is the concept that Lance is actually dating Nyma.

 _Fucking Nyma_.

Maybe his roommate is going deaf and blind? It's the only logical explanation.

Lance steals a kiss from the girl underneath him before returning his attention to Keith. "Where are we supposed to go? Nyma has two roomies. This is the best place for us."

Before Keith even has a chance to respond, the two return to their disgusting make out session, though this time their hands seem to be roaming to more R-rated places.

"Ugh," He doesn't bother to disguise the aggravation in his voice as he leans over the pair to snag some clean clothes from his bag on the ground (he really needs to unpack that). Casting one more hate-filled glare in Nyma's direction, which he can do because she's obviously not focused on him, he storms into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

* * *

It's two days later that Keith finally speaks with Lance again - under duress, of course. He's been doing a pretty bang up job of giving him the silent treatment ever since the Scandal After Soccer™. 

"Keith," The brown haired boy whines from his desk chair as he casts wide puppy dog eyes at his bunky. He's currently got his feet propped up on the table, despite the dirt he's tracked on the rumpled pile of papers stacked there.

The addressee, currently sitting on his own bed with his back turned, refuses to acknowledge the other, instead choosing to pretend he didn't hear it. For good measure, Keith makes sure that he bobs his head extra vigorously to the music playing in his headphones.

" _Keeeith_ ," Lance repeats, louder this time.

Dammit.

Keith turns around and yanks off his headphones. "What do you want?"

The other boy seems taken aback, based on the strange expression he's making. Keith would almost say he looks...hurt but that can't be.

"I just wanted to say...I know you've been giving me the cold shoulder lately," Lance pauses and takes a deep breath. "And I know it's because of what happened a few days ago."

"Mm," Keith hums noncommittally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. 

"Um, well...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. We shouldn't have made you uncomfortable." Another tense pause, this one ripe with hesitation. "It wasn't fair and I feel really bad about it. Now, will you please stop ignoring me? Buddy?"

"Apology accepted, I guess." Keith's voice sounds rougher than he meant but he's actually slightly relieved. He hasn't enjoyed treating his roommate like this. Even in the beginning, when they genuinely hated one another it was difficult. Now that he's seen a different side of the other boy? It's been damn near impossible to keep him at bay. (And out of his thoughts.)

"Really?" Lance beams, swinging his legs down from his desk and spinning his swivel chair so he's facing the dark haired boy. 

"Yeah, really. I think, uh..." Keith scratches behind his ear for a second. "It's possible I overreacted a little. Jealousy does that to people."

The two sit there for a moment, staring at one another and then Keith realizes what he just said. _Jealousy does that to people. Oh shit. Oh my God._

"Uh," He stammers intelligently. "Nyma's just, uh, really beautiful. You're lucky." _Nice save making it about the girl._

Lance swallows audibly before he nods his assent, "I agree. She is very pretty." There's something underneath his tone however, that hints that he's leaving something unsaid.

Another awkward silence ensues, something that they seem to do pretty well, before Lance clears his throat and scoots his chair a little closer. "What's the notebook on your table?"

Keith follows his gaze to his red poetry journal, perched where he left it on top of his alarm clock. He could lie and say it's for school. But, there's not really any point in that. He doesn't have anything to hide.

"That's my poetry book. Shiro got me the journal and then my therapist thought it would be a good idea if I used it to uh, take out my frustrations."

"Shiro," Lance repeats like he was just slapped in the face.

"Yeah, he likes to get me random gifts. Anyway, I just put poems from writers that I like into it. It's a lot more relaxing than it sounds. Helps calm me down more than anything else."

"That sounds nice, actually," His roommate doesn't sound cynical or mocking. He seems genuinely interested. "If you don't mind me asking...why do you have a therapist? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

The mood in the room instantly changes, fueled into something dark as Keith's expression turns downcast and deeply saddened. He shifts his gaze to his lap and wonders where he could even begin.

"Forget I asked," Lance takes note of the negative atmosphere and instantly holds his hands up placatingly. "I was just curious. Talk about something else?"

'No, no," Keith shakes his head, blinking slowly at the ground beneath him. This could be good for him. Talking about what happened with someone other than his therapist. "I, uh, just need a second. I'll tell you but you can't say anything to anyone else."

He raises his head once again to meet the other boy's gaze and it's a little surprising how completely solemn Lance looks.

"Okay," He reminds himself to breathe. "Um...first I have to tell you who I am. Pidge sort of told you that time we were all here. I am pretty famous from the Garrison. But my father is Black Blade."

He waits for that information to sink in, trying not to base too much of his own emotion off of Lance's reaction. 

"Your dad is Black Blade...the crime boss. _The_ number one crime boss of the entire country." The other boy whistles, almost appreciatively. "Damn. No wonder you don't talk about it."

"Yeah, it's...complicated. I don't like to tell people because then they'll assume everything I've done for myself is dirty. I don't want to be known as a cheater and a thief, you know? I want to be honest and open." Keith twiddles his thumbs in his lap. "I thought Pidge was going to blow it - I'd forgotten that she would definitely be aware of him, as he's quite good at hacking into different systems. Probably someone she'd have a healthy respect for."

"So, you're...basically a prince." Lance grinned at the thought, probably imagining Keith with a crown, or worse a tiara, on top of his mullet. "Your dad is sitting on an multi-billion dollar empire and you're going to inherit it all."

"And, that's where you're wrong. My dad hates my guts. He'd probably rather die than give me any of that money...not like I would take it anyway. It's soiled with the blood and labor of his victims."

"What? Why would he hate you? Your his son!"

"Family doesn't mean much when you're as powerful as he is."

"Oh. Wow I'm sorry about that. He sounds terrible... So, I assume this is why you have a therapist?"

 Again, Keith considers lying. He could nod and that would be the end of the conversation. But, something tells him to keep going in spite of his misgivings. 

"No, unfortunately that's just the tip of the iceberg. Um...when I was four, my mom left. We don't know where she went but I understand why. I think he sexually abused her and threatened her with his power. I've never blamed her for being absent. After all, I left too." He bites his cheek, trying to figure out how to put this into words. How can he say this and have Lance still look at him the same? 

"I was little, I really missed my mother and acted out a lot. So, my dad punished me. I didn't know it wasn't normal at the time. I never got to see anyone except the help and my dad. No friends, no school. Just staying out of the way of my dad's business. But I wasn't perfect. The punishments...well sometimes, they would be easy things. No dinner, or breakfast. Other times, it was..." Keith inhales shakily. " _A lot_ worse. Something like...probably what he did to my mom."

"Jesus," Lance whispers, eyes wide and horrified.

Keith dares to meet his gaze, afraid of what he'll find. Will Lance think he's weak? Will he be disgusted?

Before he's even aware of what's going on, Lance is enveloping him in a hug. Normally, Keith would flinch away. He's not really about physical touch - as demonstrated by the party he met this blue shirted boy at. Right now the hug feels strangely comforting and he finds himself leaning into it.

"I understand why you left," Lance pulls back, smiling softly. "You did the right thing."

"After I ran away, with only a suitcase and a wad of cash I met Shiro." Keith's mood brightens considerably at the thought of his best friend. "He took me in, helped me get into the Garrison. My dad never called or tried to ask me to come home. And, I guess I'm thankful for that."

"And here you are," His room mate finishes.

"And here I am."

"I'm really glad you told me," Lance shifts backwards until he's sitting back on his own chair. "That was brave."

"Yeah, I'm glad too," Keith feels like he's been exonerated. Telling Lance something that makes him feel vulnerable has freed some of the tension from his shoulders, as if the burden of the sky is being shared by someone else. It's peculiar and awkward but he feels...happy for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't write it specifically, but the marks Lance has been noticing on Keith's skin? Those are scars and bruises from his childhood.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around! I adore this fic, and love writing it so much. Comments and kudos are like presents :)

**Author's Note:**

> Have I really become one of those people? Previous fics I've written I feel like they really had some morals and dignity. Good plots, good character arcs.
> 
> Now I'm just Klance trash apparently.


End file.
